


Listen to the Airport

by Glowbug



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Abuse, Arthur grows up, Carolyn and Arthur protecting each other, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:10:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowbug/pseuds/Glowbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of moments in the life of the young Arthur Shappey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aeroplane

Arthur is four, and his dad has just bought an aeroplane. The aeroplane is for Dad and not for Arthur, but it is still the best thing _ever._ Today Arthur and his mum get to fly in it.

“Where are we flying, Dad?” he asks as his mum buckles him in.

“Just taking her for a spin,” Dad replies in his pleased voice. “I’ll be up in the flight deck, Carolyn.” He strides away.

His mother nods, handing Arthur a sippy cup full of orange juice. “Now, we have to make sure Snoopadoop is buckled in too!” she tells him. Arthur dutifully puts his stuffed puppy on the seat beside him, and Mum buckles the seat belt before settling herself across the aisle.

The plane drives really, really fast before it suddenly leaves the ground. Arthur presses his nose to the window. Wow! The houses look even smaller than his Legos! It really is the best thing ever!

He sits enraptured for the entire too-short flight, nose smudging the glass and fingers wrapped around his juice cup. When the plane finally touches down again, he turns around and beams at his mother.

“Did you have fun, dear heart?”

“Yeah!” Arthur says. Mum smiles.

A bell goes _bing-bong,_ and Dad’s voice fills the cabin. “Eh, Carolyn, Arthur, how’d you like to see the flight deck?”

“Yeah!” Arthur says again, bouncing up and down in his seat. His mother unbuckles him and Snoopadoop. He tucks his toy under his arm and follows her to the front of the plane.

The flight deck is amazing: full of shiny airplane instruments. Arthur’s mouth falls open. He yelps when Dad scoops him up: “How’s my boy like my aeroplane?” Arthur is too awed to answer.

“He loves it, Gordon.” And Arthur does. He loves the plane, and he loves that both his mum and his dad sound happy today. It’s the best day he can remember in a long time.

Then Dad laughingly plunks him down on the pilot’s seat, just a little too hard, and Arthur drops his juice cup. It clatters to the floor and the lid pops off, spewing orange juice everywhere—not right _on_ the shiny instruments, but very, very close.

Dad stops laughing.

Mum’s smile fades.

 _“Now_ look what you’ve done,” Dad snaps. “Get him out of here.”

“Gordon—”

“I said _out!”_

His mum scoops him up and takes them both back to the car. Arthur tries hard not to sniffle as she buckles him in again. “Mum? I didn’t mean it.”

“I know, Arthur,” she says, ruffling his hair.

Dad comes back an hour later. Before Arthur can even say sorry, Gordon Shappey speaks directly into his face. “Know what you are? You’re a little idiot. Just see if I ever let you on my plane again.”

Arthur bites his lip. He knows it’s a bad idea to cry in front of his dad.

 


	2. Brilliant

Arthur is seven, running home from school. He bursts in the front door, screen banging behind him. “Mum! Guess what!”

Mum’s reading one of those books with the shiny covers that tells about places far away. “Arthur, remember we have a rule about closing the door quietly?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Mum.” Arthur turns around and closes the not-screen door in the proper manner. “But guess what!”

“Did a swarm of flying pigs descend upon the schoolyard?”

Arthur blinks. “What? No, Mum! That would just be silly!”

“Fortunately I was merely guessing.” Mum stands up to fill the tea kettle. “What did happen?”

“I learnt a new word, Mum!”

“Oh, and what word was that?”

Arthur clears his throat. “Brill-i-ant!” he pronounces carefully. “And it means when something’s the best thing _ever!_ It’s—it’s brilliant!”

His mother laughs out loud. “That’s my boy.”

Arthur beams. He likes to make his mum happy. He likes to make _everyone_ happy.

“Well then, Mr. Arthur-Brilliant-Shappey, would you care for some tea?”

“Real tea like grownups have?”

“Indeed,” his mother replies.

“Wow!”

Mum pours two cups of tea, Arthur’s in a yellow mug. She lifts an eyebrow when he puts loads of milk and sugar in after tasting it, but does not comment.

“Can Snoopadoop have tea, Mum?”

“No, I’m afraid tea falls under people food, Arthur.”

“Oh. Too bad.”

A key turns in the front door lock.

“There’s your dad,” his mum says, smile freezing on her face a bit.

“Can we make him tea, too, Mum?”

“Carolyn!” Dad calls out, in his not-at-all-pleased voice.

Mum picks up his half-empty teacup and carries it to the sink. “Code Red, Arthur,” she whispers.

Code Red is a new game; it means pretend you’re a spy and have to go hide quick before the enemy spots you. Arthur gives his mum a quick hug, then bounds up the stairs to tell Snoopadoop and his Lego people all about his day at school.

 


	3. Staircase

Arthur is nine, and hiding in the stairwell. He was on his way down to kiss Mum good night, but Mum and Dad are shouting at each other. It’s quite loud. Dad’s the loudest, but Arthur isn’t quite sure what they’re shouting _about._

“I’m telling you the boy is a certifiable _idiot!”_ Dad bellows.

Oh.

Arthur stands frozen on the steps, wanting nothing more than to run back to his room and stuff his head under a pillow. He clutches Snoopadoop tighter.

“He’s a _child!”_ Mum is shouting back. Dad yells something else, something about Arthur’s marks in school and the note Mrs. Dimmond sent home with him today. Carolyn’s response rings all the way up to Arthur’s stair: “He is your son, not a broken toy for you to throw away.”

The loud _crack_ that echoes in response is enough to unfreeze Arthur and send him scampering up the stairs back to his room. He’s halfway into bed when he finds he’s dropped Snoopadoop. But when he creeps back to his bedroom door, to go out and get her, his dad’s voice carries up the stairs again: “How do I know he’s even mine?”

Arthur hides under the covers.

A long time passes. The shouting stops. The house falls silent. Dad stomps upstairs to his and Mum’s bedroom. Arthur can’t sleep.

Eventually, he hears his mum’s step in the hall and his door creaks open. She sits down on his bed. A corner of his blanket lifts and she tucks something underneath it. A threadbare stuffed dog, with remnants of curly fur. Snoopadoop.

Arthur sits up, reaching for his dog with one hand and his mum with the other. She pulls him into a tight hug. She doesn’t speak. Neither does he. But he thinks it’s going to be okay, maybe.

He snuggles closer to her and falls asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Gordon Shappey is a HORRIBLE human being. But you knew that.


	4. Yellow Car

Arthur is one month away from being eleven.

“I know what I want for my birthday,” he pipes up from the backseat. They’re all going on holiday, and Mum and Dad are getting on today, which is _brilliant._ “A puppy, like Snoopadoop but alive—yellow car—a real one.”

“No,” his dad cuts in before he’s even finished speaking.

“But Dad, it would be brilliant!”

“It’ll make noise, get dog hair all over the furniture, and you’ll forget to take care of it because you’re a stupid idiot who still sleeps with a stuffed animal. For the love of God _don’t_ take his side, Carolyn,” when Mum opens her mouth. “If I come home and find a dog I’ll get rid of it myself.”

Arthur can see his mum’s face in the side mirror. She looks very much as if she would like to say something, but in the face of Dad’s speech, she stays silent.

“The other thing I’d really like is a ride in the aeroplane,” he tries.

The response is even more emphatic. _“No.”_

Arthur goes back to looking out the window.

“Yellow car.”

Dad sighs. “If you can’t say something intelligent, have the decency to shut up.”

Arthur shuts up.

When they get to the hotel he hides Snoopadoop under his bed. When they go home, he gives her one last pat on the head and leaves her there. (When Mum asks a week later, he claims that he’s lost her and is too old for silly stuffed dogs anyway, but Mum’s face gets that far-away sad look and he knows she doesn’t believe him.)

Among his birthday presents are a book about dogs (from Mum) and a toy aeroplane that looks just like GERTI (tagged “to Arthur with love from Dad,” in Mum’s neat handwriting).

He doesn’t sleep as well at night without Snoopadoop.

 


	5. Strawberries

Arthur is twelve and he can’t breathe.

Well, he can now. But it’s harder than normal and he has to have a special plastic mask on his face that the nurse told him not to touch. An hour ago he really truly couldn’t, when the strawberry ice cream stopped making his mouth tingle and instead his throat closed up. His friend Tim’s grandma had to call emergency. The ambulance ride was _brilliant_ —almost enough to make up for missing the rest of Tim’s birthday party—but now he’s stuck in hospital and that’s not very brilliant at all.

“I’ve rung your mum, dearie,” Tim’s grandma tells him. “She’s on her way.”

Arthur tries to say, “Thank you, Mrs. MacGrady,” but his mouth is still swollen and it comes out more like “thoo missmagged.”

“Yoo af gobak?” he asks.

She blinks. “Sorry, dearie, I didn’t catch that.”

“You—afftoo—gobak?”

“Ohhh. No, dearie, the party can get along without me for a little longer. I’ll stay till your mum comes.”

Arthur’s too tired to try talking again, so he just smiles.

Ten minutes later, his mum bursts into the room, looking like she’s run all the way from the car. Arthur learns that _“Mum!”_ is one thing he _can_ say with a swollen mouth. She all but scoops him up in a hug. “Shorry, Mum…”

“Hush.” She strokes his hair. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He has _never_ been gladder to see her.

When he comes home the next day, he proudly shows off his new EpiPen and leaflet on strawberry allergies, and hums to himself to drown out the shouting that drifts up the stairs that night.

 


	6. Muppet Babies

Arthur is seventeen, sitting anxiously in a waiting room in his nicest clothes. This is it. This is his big chance to be a pilot, just like Dad.

No. Not ever like Dad.

Arthur stays out of the house as much as he can nowadays, doing odd jobs for Mrs. MacGrady or the other neighbors or sometimes the owner of the neighborhood cafe. It’s better to stay away; there’s never any telling about Dad. Sometimes Mum gives him a Code Red the moment she sees him—before he’s even said anything! He kind of understands, though, since when he used to try to be helpful to Dad it usually ended with Dad calling him an idiot and kicking him out of the room.

He knows he’s not bright—he’s known _that_ for years. But it still hurts coming from his dad.

“Arthur Shappey, you’re up!”

Oh. It’s his turn.

Arthur looks round the room, taking in the other applicants. Wow. If there were Muppet Baby versions of pilots, he’d be sitting in a room full of them. Look at them. Intelligent. Coordinated. Assured. Everything he was supposed to be, but isn’t.

“Arthur Shappey!” the woman from the interview room calls again.

Arthur’s been on a plane once: that day on GERTI when he spilled orange juice in the flight deck. He crash-landed his toy GERTI in a tree ages ago. He consumes strawberries by accident at least once a year, no matter how hard he tries. He’s not even sure he’s going to pass his driving test.

He slides down a little in his seat.

“Arthur Shappey?”

When the woman goes on to the next name on her list and one of the Muppet Baby pilots steps up, Arthur quietly gets up and leaves. Mum’s written down the train he should take home, but she left time for the interview and it’s not for a bit. Arthur walks to the station anyway, hands in his pockets and eyes on his shoes. He stares at the tracks for an hour, then stares out the window for the entire train ride. No yellow cars on trains.

It’s almost dark when he gets to his house. He checks the driveway. Dad’s car isn’t there. Phew.

He lets himself in and walks into the kitchen. All is quiet. His mum is sitting at the table, cradling an empty teacup. She hasn’t put the lights on yet. Poor Mum. She got him an interview specially and everything, and here he is. Arthur Shappey, the un-brilliant quitter.

“H-hi, Mum.”

She looks up. He tries to keep his face neutral as she takes him in, but he’s no good at that. He’s blinking very fast. Definitely _not_ crying. Just blinking.

“Not brilliant, then,” she says.

He shakes his head.

“Sit, before you fall over,” she tells him. Arthur obeys.

Carolyn asks no questions about the interview. She doesn’t tease him or press him to talk. She simply stands up, switches a light on and makes them both tea. When she sets his cup in front of him (loads of milk and sugar, just the way he likes it), her hand rests on his shoulder.

 


	7. Snoopadoop

Arthur is eighteen.

He finds the puppy on his way home from shoveling Mrs. MacGrady’s sidewalk. She is shivering and whimpering in a cardboard box by the side of the road.

“Hello, puppy,” he whispers, kneeling beside the box. The puppy gives a small yip when she sees him. He reaches a hand out and she recoils. “It’s okay,” he tells her. She needs a name. Arthur picks the first one he thinks of. “It’s okay, Snoopadoop. Here, girl.”

Snoopadoop sniffs his hand, cautiously, then puts her paws on the side of the box as if to climb up to him.

Arthur pulls off his coat and wraps it around the tiny dog.

Dad’s away, which is good. Mum rarely leaves the house anymore; even Arthur’s best helpfulness doesn’t cheer her up. Sure enough, when he comes in she’s staring out the window.

“Mum?”

She jolts in her chair and looks up. “Arthur… have you been outside without your coat on? It’s _snowing.”_

“Look, Mum.”

Arthur holds out his bundle of coat and puppy. Carolyn’s face falls into a soft “ohh.”

“Someone just left her by the side of the road! In the snow, Mum! Nobody should do that!”

“Certainly not,” his mother says, sounding the smallest bit like he remembers her from when he was little. She stands, walking round the kitchen table as if wading through molasses. “Arthur… your dad… we _really_ can’t…”

“I had to bring her home, I just had to,” Arthur breaks in. “She was all cold and sad and, and lonely.”

His mother reaches out to pet the puppy’s head.

_“Please,_ Mum.”

She looks at him for a long moment, then at the dog in his arms. “She looks like something the cat dragged in, Arthur. Go and give her a bath.”

“What do you mean the cat, Mum? Snoopadoop’s a dog!”

“Snoopadoop?” Carolyn raises an eyebrow. At his nod, she sighs. “I mean she is wet and muddy. Get her cleaned up and come back. Put your coat in the wash. _Don’t_ get soap in her eyes. I don’t think ordinary shampoo is meant to be used on dogs.”

“Right-o, Mum.”

An hour later, Arthur comes back downstairs with wet clothes and a clean puppy wrapped in a towel. Carolyn produces a plate of cold chicken (which Snoopadoop digs into, tail wagging furiously) and tells him she’s booked an appointment with a local veterinarian for the next day. “Keep her away from your dad,” she adds. “I’ll… talk to him. But until then.”

They spend the next two weeks doing things like shopping for actual dog food and teaching Snoopadoop to come when called. Arthur finds himself humming when walking around the house. Mum even starts to tease him like she used to, in the fond, exasperated way that ends with a hug and “oh, go and make us some tea, Arthur.”

Arthur likes being the one to make the tea.

At the end of the second week, Arthur sits by the living room fireplace teaching Snoopadoop to shake. Carolyn is on the sofa with a cup of Arthur’s tea and one of her old travel books. “Shake,” Arthur tells his dog. She cocks her head but otherwise doesn’t move.

“Try picking her paw up when you say it,” Carolyn advises.

Arthur does so. “Shake, girl!”

“Now give her a treat.”

Arthur produces one from his pocket. Snoopadoop yips, standing up on her back paws to reach for it. “Maybe I should teach her ‘speak,’ Mum!”

“Goodness knows she’s grasped the basic principles.”

A car pulls up outside. Arthur can’t see out the window, he’s sitting on the floor, how could he? But his mum can. She sits up to look. Her face pales.

“Mum?”

A key turns in the front door lock. The door opens.

_Dad. Dad’s home early._

Snoopadoop yips and bounds out of the room, tail wagging, in search of a new human friend.

Arthur looks at his mum. She returns his gaze with wide eyes. Then they’re both on their feet, running for the front hallway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was writing the story as a series of vignettes, but this one had other ideas. Next chapter picks up where it leaves off. :)


	8. Code Red

Snoopadoop narrowly avoids a kick from Gordon Shappey just as Carolyn and Arthur reach the hall. She dashes to Arthur, who scoops her up in his arms.

Dad speaks in the light voice he uses when he’s _this close_ to getting very shouty indeed. “All right, what’s this gutter rat doing here?”

“Gordon, what a lovely surprise,” Mum says in the too-sweet voice she uses on Dad and on people she doesn’t like. “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow!”

“Do you know about this, Carolyn?” Dad’s not really any taller than Mum, but somehow he looms over her like a bad guy in a scary movie. “I won’t have dogs in my house. Get rid of it. Now.”

She lifts her chin. “No.”

“What do you mean, _no?”_ He takes a step towards her. Arthur shrinks back against the wall.

Carolyn’s voice is flat. “Code Red, Arthur.”

“But Mum—”

 _“Red!”_ she snaps. Dad grabs her by the arm. And Arthur runs out the front door.

 _Coward. Stupid!_ He has to go back. It’s his fault about Snoopadoop; he hates Dad shouting but if anyone’s going to get shouted at it should be him, not Mum.

He grits his teeth and makes himself smile because he can’t cry and definitely can’t panic. He needs a plan and, idiot though he may be, there’s no one else who can come up with one right now. Snoopadoop is squirming in his arms but he’s scared to relax his hold. He needs somewhere safe to take her. Then he can go back.

Outside is too cold. Inside is where Dad is. The animal shelter—no, that’s miles away and Mum has the car keys and Mum’s inside. With Dad. No, don’t think about that…

Mrs. MacGrady?

Arthur runs the whole three blocks. He doesn’t have a hand free when he reaches Mrs. MacGrady’s porch so he mashes his elbow into her doorbell. His breath puffs into the air as he waits for the door to open.

_Creak._

“Why, Arthur dear! And what a lovely little dog! May I get you some tea?”

“No thank you, please, I need help.” Arthur thrusts his dog at her. “Take Snoopadoop. I’ll come back tomorrow, I’ll shovel all your snow for free, all winter even, just please keep her away from Dad!”

Mrs. MacGrady is 85, but she’s at least as quick as Mum. “All right, dearie, this is important is it?”

“Yes. Really really really important.”

“Is everything all right, dear?”

“I’ve gotta get home—thank you!” Arthur gives her a quick hug and runs.

Maybe it’s because he’s out of breath that he stops to listen when he gets to his own front door, still standing open. His parents’ voices drift from the living room. No, that’s his dad’s voice. Dad’s the one shouting. _“Are you listening to me?”_

He can hear Mum’s voice too, but… she’s not shouting. She’s not even talking. She’s crying.

Arthur forgets everything else. He dashes into the living room. Dad stands in full roar by the fireplace and Mum huddles on the sofa. Her teacup from earlier lies shattered on the floor. “Dad, stop it!”

 _“Code Red,_ Arthur!” His mother’s voice breaks.

 _Not this time, Mum._ Arthur steps between his parents. “It was me, Dad. I brought the dog home. It’s my fault.”

“Shut up and get out of my way, Arthur,” his dad snarls. “Stupid worthless idiot.”

Arthur looks directly into his father’s eyes. His voice shakes but he keeps going. “Y-yeah, Dad, I am. I’m all those things and I’m r-really sorry but it’s not Mum’s f-fault and you have to stop being so mean to her all the time, you have to _stop it!”_ The last two words shrill. Maybe, if he can get Dad to listen just this once—

His father slaps him across the face.

Arthur doesn’t feel it at first, but he hears it, and he’s staggering backwards with one hand on his cheek and absolutely no idea what to do.

 _“Now_ look what you made me do,” his dad is saying.

His mother’s hand on his back steadies him. Carolyn is on her feet, speaking with deadly calm in her voice. “Enough.” It’s like hearing the eye of a hurricane. “I want a divorce.”

For the first time Arthur can remember, Gordon Shappey blanches with shock.

“We are through being your personal punching bags,” his mother continues. “Get out.”

“Carolyn—” he rasps.

_“NOW.”_

Gordon stares at them for a moment, then turns on his heel and goes. The front door slams. Two minutes later his car starts up and drives away.

“Mum,” Arthur breathes, “that was brilliant!”

“That,” his mother replies, “could have gone a thousand times worse than it did.” She takes his face in her hands. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah… but my face hurts.”

“Wait there.” She points to the couch. Arthur obediently sits down as she stalks into the kitchen, returning with a towel-wrapped ice pack. “Where is Snoopadoop?” she asks as she hands it to him.

Arthur presses the pack to his cheek with a shaking hand. “Mrs. MacGrady.”

“Good, she’s safe then.”

He nods, sniffling. “S’posed to—go and get her—tomorrow…” He can’t stay steady anymore. Arthur drops the ice pack and sobs.

Mum joins him on the sofa, wrapping her arms around him. “That’s my boy. My brave, smart boy.”

No one has ever called Arthur smart before. He cries harder. When Mum finally releases him from the hug she’s wiping her own eyes. Her voice is soft, but businesslike. “Pack a suitcase.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know, but I’d rather not be here if he comes back.”

An hour later, they go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love Carolyn in her force-of-nature moments!


	9. Aeroplane

They spend a few days in a hotel—there’s really nowhere else _to_ go—until Carolyn calls to have the locks changed on the house. Dad doesn’t come back; on the third day Arthur tries calling the airfield, and finds that Gordon Shappey has departed on yet another business trip.

Arthur reclaims Snoopadoop from a relieved Mrs. MacGrady and proceeds to help her with any odd job she can come up with, free of charge, for the next several months. When he’s not doing that, he stays near his mum. The divorce is messy. There’s a lot of yelling and lawyers and sometimes Mum hides in her room (the one that used to be the guest room but isn’t anymore) and cries. Arthur gets very good at making tea and coffee for them both. But she’s stopped staring out the window or into the bottoms of empty teacups, which is a vast relief.

Eight months later, they climb into Carolyn’s car and drive away from the old house for the last time. Arthur feeds Snoopadoop a cookie. “Yellow car!”

“Arthur, don’t tell me you’re still playing that game.”

“You’re _always_ playing yellow car!”

“Oh, all right.” The car turns left.

“Mum, why are we going to the airfield?” Arthur asks.

“You’ll see,” Carolyn replies with a small smile. When they arrive, she leads Arthur and Snoopadoop out onto the tarmac. “Voila! Our transport to Fitton.”

Arthur takes in the small jet—the one he’s seen from the outside hundreds of times, and from the inside exactly once. “But Mum… Dad always said I’m not allowed on his plane. Not ever!”

“Ah, but you’re forgetting: it’s not his plane anymore. It’s mine, and there’s a pilot waiting in it now who will fly it and us far away from him.” Her smile is triumphant. “I don’t know what possible use we have for an aeroplane, but we may as well get one good trip out of her.”

Arthur beams as they climb the stairs onto the plane. “Can I sit by the window, Mum?”

“You can sit anywhere you want,” his mother says with a laugh. “It’s not as if the seats are reserved for other passengers.”

Snoopadoop runs up and down the aisle several times, barking excitedly, before Carolyn finally insists on putting her in the carrier. Arthur presses his nose to the window. The plane begins to move.

Arthur Shappey is nineteen years old, and as GERTI lifts off the ground he feels, for a brief moment, completely happy. He’s on a plane. He’s with his mum and his dog. And when they move into their new home, Dad will not be there.

It’s amazing. It’s wonderful. It might just be the best thing ever.

“Hey, Mum?”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Your aeroplane,” Arthur announces, “is _brilliant.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They deserved a happy moment after all that, don't you think?
> 
> Arthur feeding Snoopadoop cookies is meant as a nod to fractionallyfoxtrot's very sweet fic Snoopadoodles. It's also pre-series and features Carolyn and Arthur, what else, making cookies!
> 
> I'll also share the note I left myself at the end of the rough draft: "Oh, I've been so mean to them. :( But now they are free! :)"
> 
> Thank you all for reading.


End file.
